


something worth living for

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Getting Back Together, Hurt Derek, M/M, Post-Break Up, Self-Sacrificing Derek, original dog character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Stiles and Derek broke up months ago because of Derek's penchant for self-sacrifice. But maybe, just maybe, they can work things out.





	something worth living for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TroubleIWant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleIWant/gifts).



Stiles' favorite place to walk his dog, Leia, was the memorial park nestled deep in the heart of Beacon Hills.

There were jogging paths around the perimeter of the park itself, perfect for days when they were both in the mood to run for a bit. It was smoothly paved and well maintained enough that he never had to worry about Leia scratching up her paws as she waddled alongside him in short bursts.

Many other people walking their dogs at the park favored the jogging trail as well, giving them plenty of opportunities to meet new people and their pets. With how sociable both Stiles and Leia were, it was wonderful, never at a loss for some friendly conversation or a walking partner.

There was a group of older women who frequented the park almost every day, visiting to see each other and gossip over some tea from the local cafe, occasionally walking the jogging trail. They were especially fond of Stiles, who had officially dubbed them the Golden Girls, and, of course, Leia as well, always greeting them with wide smiles and offers to set Stiles up with one of their grandkids.

On days when Stiles just felt like going for a leisurely stroll, he would forego the jogging trail in favor of the more secluded, shady paths that led into the outskirts of the preserve. Those trails were little more than dirt paths worn from foot traffic, winding their ways around ancient oak trees and pine saplings.

Those paths were best for days when it was especially warm, the sun beating down relentlessly as the humidity level climbed higher and higher. The thick canopies of the trees blotted out the sun, providing the perfect amount of shade as they wandered through the woods, Leia bounding through the underbrush.

Other days they skipped walking altogether and spent some time in the lush green fields in the center of the park. There they did everything from play fetch with Leia's favorite tennis ball to practice some of the tricks Stiles had taught her.

Leia was especially popular with little kids, Stiles always bombarded with requests from parents and children alike to pet her or play with her. Stiles was always amenable and Leia basked in the attention, preening as she was lavished with sweet coos and delicious treats. She was an entertainer at heart, performing her best tricks when she had a crowd to ooh and aah over her.

She would even tag along with the kids to the playground area of the park, acting like just another one of the crew as she hopped after the kids, barking happily as she did. The kids were always entertained by her antics whether it be her skidding down the slide on her belly or begging for someone to push her in one of the baby swings.

When there were no little kids around to fawn over her, Leia made do with fraternizing with the other dogs at the park. She was quite popular with them as well, a little alpha leading around dogs twice, or even three times, her size.

There were a few regulars who were especially enamored with her, including a harlequin Great Dane who towered over all the other dogs in the park yet followed Leia around like a little lost puppy. The others were a rough looking Rottweiler, aptly named Brutus, and a floppy-eared little black lab named Ace, both of whom let Leia lead them into all sorts of mischief.

Leia herself was a sable and white Pembroke Welsh corgi, standing at a respectable eleven and a half inches at the shoulder and weighing no more than thirty pounds. Yet despite her short stature, or maybe because of it, she was as fearless as they came, always carrying herself like a little queen as she flounced around the park.

She took after Derek in that respect, an underdog if there ever was one. After all, Derek was the one who had gotten her for Stiles, a present for their three month anniversary.

But that was all over now.

Shaking himself from his dead-end thoughts, Stiles tried to refocus on the task at hand, namely walking Leia through the park. She was ahead of him on the jogging path, furry little butt shaking as she waddled, nose to the ground to see if she could sniff out anything of interest.

It was a nice day, warm but not too hot, with a cool breeze rustling through the trees to keep the sunlight from becoming insufferably warm. One of the benefits of living in northern California was that the weather was more temperate than that in the southernmost part of the state, leaving them with summers that were a bit balmy at the most.

That day was no different, though it was still technically spring, only the last week of May. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and kids had shortened school days, making it a perfect day to go to the park.

Leia must have thought so too as the second Stiles had stepped foot into the house after his shift at the local Starbucks he had been greeted by the excited corgi, her leash in her mouth. Taking the less than subtle hint, Stiles had quickly changed out of his coffee stained uniform and thrown on some jeans and a graphic t-shirt before getting Leia ready.

She had stuck her head out the passenger side window for the duration of the short drive to the park, her little stub of a docked tail wagging the whole time, her front paws braced on the door. Stiles had always preferred driving to the park rather than walk there, having learned from experience that if they walked to the park Leia would be too tired by the time they got there to actually enjoy the park.

And they certainly couldn't have that. Not when Leia had loyal fans to satisfy.

She had let out an excited bark as they pulled up to the park, Stiles finding a parking spot that was as close as possible to the water fountain where people tossed in pennies and dimes and other coins, making wishes as they did. There were drinking fountains a few yards away so Leia could have a nice cool drink after their walk, not wanting her to get overheated.

He had reached over to ruffle the thick fur at her neck as he rolled up the windows, leaving them cracked a few inches to let some fresh air into the Jeep, knowing how quickly it could turn into a sauna just from sitting in the sun for a few minutes. Leia had pulled her head back as Stiles rolled up the window, turning her attention to spinning around in her seat excitedly, even hopping up and down a few times for good measure.

"Alright, c'mon, princess," Stiles had said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the Jeep, taking a moment to stretch out his legs before he rounded the nose of the Jeep to open the passenger's side door for Leia. Before the scrappy little corgi could do something stupid and reckless, like try to jump out of the Jeep herself, Stiles scooped her up in his arms and closed the door.

He had set her down in the grass and made sure that her leash was hooked on the ring of her collar, both of which were suitably Star Wars themed. Her black collar was emblazoned with the Star Wars logo in bright yellow, her leash bearing a white and blue R2D2 pattern.

They had been gifts from Derek, too. After Stiles had given Leia her name, Derek had made it his mission in life to buy as much Star Wars themed pet paraphernalia as he could find.

That was how Leia wound up with enough Star Wars memorabilia to actually make Stiles a little jealous. She had a dog bed twice her size that was shaped like the Millennium Falcon, a squeaky ball painted to look like the Death Star, a Chewbacca chew toy, and boxes upon boxes of lightsaber and TIE fighter shaped dog treats.

His bedroom back at home was now full of both he and Leia's Star Wars merchandise and trinkets, ranging from the promotional posters plastered all over the walls to Leia's basket of Star Wars toys in the corner. His dad had started referring to Stiles' room as the Bridge. Stiles appreciated the effort even if his dad did mix up Star Wars and Star Trek yet again.

He had smiled down at Leia at the thought, though his chest did ache at the memory of how excited Derek had been every time he presented Leia with a new toy or treat. Derek had been so wonderful with her.

Shaking himself, Stiles had slid the circular loop of the leash handle around his wrist, curling his fingers around the leash, and slammed the passenger side door shut. Tucking his car keys into his pocket, stuffing them in beside the plastic poop dogs, Stiles had forcibly shoved all thoughts of Derek to the back of his mind and started their walk, leading Leia onto the jogging trail.

They had only been walking for a little more than fifteen minutes, stopping by the Golden Girls at their usual spot, when Leia suddenly took off running across the park, dragging Stiles along with her. He had to jog to keep up with her, desperately calling her name, the corgi surprisingly fast as she bounded across the grassy field in pursuit of who knows what.

He was sure they made quite a sight: a dainty little thirty pound corgi towing her scrawny one hundred and forty seven pound owner around without breaking a sweat, the corgi looking nonplussed as ever. Stiles, on the other hand, was sure he looked like a maniac, panting at the unexpected exertion as he continued calling her name, his face red and blotchy.

When she finally skidded to a stop in the grass, letting out a cheerful yip as she did, Stiles took a moment to catch his breath, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and suck in greedy inhales of cool air. One would think that after years now of running with a pack of werewolves he wouldn't be so winded from a quick dash across the field, but one would be wrong.

Besides, he hadn't run with the pack for almost two months now. It had done a number on his stamina.

"Oh god, Leia," Stiles groaned as he ran a hand over his red face, wiping beads of sweat off of his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was so not giving her any treats that night.

Well, okay, he was still going to give her treats. He may have to reprimand her for her unruly behavior but he wasn't a monster.

He wiped his sweaty hand on the side of his jeans, still embarrassingly winded, remaining doubled over for a few more minutes. Letting out a deep sigh, he began straightening up but froze in his tracks when he heard a heart-stoppingly familiar voice, stock still in shock.

"Well, hey there, your highness," the voice greeted, the endearment used so casually and so warmly that Stiles could feel his chest tighten, almost painfully so. Leia let out another happy little bark, tugging at the end of her leash until Stiles relented and loosened his hold on the lead, his hands too shaky to hold it tightly any longer.

He didn't want to look up, didn't want to be face-to-face with the person he had studiously been avoiding for the past three months. He didn't want to look into their eyes and think about what might have been. What should have been.

He didn't want to break his heart all over again. Once was enough.

But he did anyway. With a deep breath, he straightened up to his full height and looked in the general direction of where the voice had come from.

Derek was sitting on a wooden bench, looking as gorgeous as always in a form-fitting burgundy Henley and dark wash that looked so tight Stiles couldn't help but wonder how he even managed to put them on. Skinny jeans were no match for that ass.

He was bent over on the bench, elbows resting on his knees as he ruffled the thick brown fur at the nape of Leia's neck, letting her lap at his face. Her pink tongue laved his cheek, running through the coarse dark hair of Derek's stubble, the werewolf wrinkling his nose when he caught a whiff of doggy breath.

Derek had a book beside him on the bench, a red bookmark haphazardly stuck in it several chapters in as though he had tucked the bookmark into the novel without much care when Leia bounded over to him. It was so like Derek to do something so insignificant but so meaningful at the same time. It used to take hours for Stiles to drag Derek out of and away from a good book.

He didn't know if he was jealous that Leia had done it so easily, or happy that Derek had apparently learned how to let loose a little bit.

On the bench beside his book was a thermos of what Stiles guessed was Derek's favorite blackberry rose tea, the kind that he always liked to sip on when he read. He had told Stiles that his mother had always made it for him when he couldn't sleep, curling up in bed with him and reading to him from whatever book she was reading at the time until he was able to drift off to sleep.

Stiles had always begged for a sip, winding his arms around Derek's arm and pressing his cheek against the point of his shoulder, whining until Derek rolled his eyes and relented, handing over his teacup. Puffing his chest out and sticking his chin up in the air, Stiles had always preened about how he had Derek wrapped around his little finger, sticking out his pinky as he took a sip of the tea and wiggling it for effect.

Derek had always rolled his eyes at Stiles' obnoxious behavior, grabbing his teacup back before Stiles drank all of the tea that he made himself, remembering his mother's recipe word for word. But he would always grab Stiles by the front of whatever ridiculous ironic t-shirt he was wearing at the time and drag him forward into a kiss both of them smiled into, their lips tasting like blackberries.

While the memory had once warmed him, humbling him with how much he cared about Derek and reminding him that Derek really did care about him, now all it did was make him feel cold and empty. It was almost like a knife straight to his gut, some cold phantom hand twisting it just to make him suffer.

He and Derek had broken up a month and a half before in the wake of a knock down drag out that had all of the betas scrambling for cover in fear of incurring either half of the couple's wrath. Even Peter had scampered off with his tail between his legs when their bickering turned into a full-blown argument.

They had screamed at each other at the tops of their lungs for hours on end until their voices were hoarse and their throats were so sore they ached. Their harsh words and acerbic barbs had reverberated through the loft, a morbid echo as they argued more vehemently than they ever had before.

At his wit's end, Stiles had finally mustered up enough nerve to tell Derek that they were over. Done. Finito.

It had been one of the most difficult decisions of his whole life. But he knew that he had to make it.

They had broken up for a reason, a damn good reason, and until the problem was remedied, Stiles couldn't even ///think/ about getting back together with Derek. All that would lead to was more pain and heartache, and Stiles wasn't sure how much more of that he could take.

The fight had started over one of Derek's bad habits. Stiles knew that when it was phrased like that it made him seem shallow and completely asinine, but it wasn't just any bad habit.

It wasn't Derek's habit of waking up at the ass crack and rudely waking Stiles up hours before his alarm went off, opening the blinds in his upstairs bedroom to let the first rays of sunlight filter in. It wasn't Derek's habit of hogging the covers like some kind of oversized puppy dog, leaving Stiles with only a corner of the blanket despite the fact that as a human Stiles did not reserve heat the way Derek did.

It wasn't Derek's habit of sulking and brooding, refusing to use his words even when he needed them most, though Stiles wished he would overcome that habit, too. It wasn't even Derek's horrible habit of self-loathing which Stiles had tried to help him kick, reminding Derek every day just how much he loved him, and just how much he truly deserved to be loved.

No, it was Derek's bad habit of putting his life at risk every time there was any sort of supernatural crisis, rushing headlong into the fray with no thought towards whether or not he would make it out alive. It was Derek's bad habit of dragging himself back to the loft all bloodied and bruised, holding in his entrails with a hand pressed to his various wounds.

It was Derek's bad habit of acting like nothing had happened, hiding away to lick his wounds and let his werewolf healing stitch him back together only to re-emerge from his private bedroom a few hours later with a smile on his face. It was Derek's bad habit of not caring if he lived or died.

It had gotten old fast and Stiles could no longer watch the man he loved more than life itself not care about his own. The night, or rather the morning since their fight had lasted until the early hours, they had broken up he had screamed at Derek that he wouldn't watch him kill himself.

They hadn't talked much after that, or even seen each other since, if anything just catching mere glimpses of each other at the grocery store or the public library or the sheriff's station once or twice. That was one of the pitfalls of living in a small town --- it was virtually impossible to completely avoid one's ex.

Stiles had distanced himself from the pack in the aftermath of their fight, not sure exactly where he stood with the betas after they had watched him rant and rave at their alpha. They had all grown close, extremely so, after all of their shared trials and tribulations with Gerard and the kanima and the Alpha Pack, but he knew that they were loyal to Derek above anyone else.

He had stopped coming to pack meetings and movie nights in favor of throwing himself headfirst into studying for his finals, fueled by copious amounts of coffee and a desperate need to distract himself from thoughts of Derek. When the studying didn't work, he decided to start taking more shifts at Starbucks, trying to convince himself that it was only because of the overtime and not because he would turn into a sobbing mess when left alone with his thoughts.

He still talked to the other pack members, though not as often as he used to. As much as he absolutely adored them all --- yes, all of them, even Peter and Jackson --- he just couldn't bear the constant reminders of Derek.

He texted Erica and Peter quite frequently, the two of them able to keep up with his sharp wit, answering his sarcasm with snarky comments of their own. But they would always mention what funny thing Derek had said the day before or what new dinner recipe he had tried out at the last pack movie night.

He had gone to the movies with Scott, Isaac, and Boyd just the other day to see some sequel to a movie he had never even seen before, Stiles shrugging and figuring he could parse out whatever the first flick had been about. Everything had been fine until poor oblivious Isaac had started rambling on and on about how much Derek liked the series, insisting that they should have invited the alpha to come along with them.

Even just sitting in the same classroom with Jackson or Allison for their general ed classes was pure torture, his mind wandering to thoughts of Derek without fail. He couldn't imagine actually going to a pack meeting or movie night.

And there he was face to face with Derek again.

As though reading his mind, Derek raised his head to meet Stiles' eyes, stealing his breath away all over again. He would never get over how damnably, how unbelievably, how downright unearthly gorgeous Derek was.

The way his eyes --- kaleidoscopes of viridian and misty blue and pale brown that most people just called green --- crinkled at the corners when he smiled widely and unabashedly, his adorable bunny teeth on full display, was irresistibly sweet. And with the black shadow of seemingly perpetual stubble darkening his jaw and partially obscuring the dimple in his cheek, it was devastatingly handsome, the way that Derek always was.

There was a small fleck of gray in the stubble at his chin, Stiles nearly letting out a whine at the thought that he hadn't been there to tease Derek about it the first time it appeared, thousands of old man jokes completely wasted. He wondered what Derek had said when he first noticed it, if he had just smiled and shook his head or pouted at his reflection in the mirror while running his fingers through the hair on his chin.

It was cute, a reminder that Derek wasn't completely inhuman. He may be an alpha werewolf but he wasn't any more impervious to the passage of time than Stiles himself. A bit less noticeably affected, sure, but not entirely impervious.

Leia seemed to like it too, hopping up to brace her paws on the bench as she pressed more doggy kisses to Derek's face, focusing on his chin where the flash of gray was. To be completely honest, Stiles wouldn't mind doing the exact same, horrible breakup be damned. Geez, he was so pathetic.

He tore his eyes away from where Leia was lapping at Derek's chin to meet the other man's eyes, willing his heart to be still. But it was no use. The stupid thing started to jackrabbit in his chest, thundering against his rib cage as though trying to break out of Stiles' body and crawl into Derek's hands, as gross as that sounded.

Stiles just hoped that Derek didn't notice. But considering the fact that Derek was an alpha werewolf, he wasn't going to hold his breath. He just prayed that Derek wouldn't say anything.

"Hey," Derek greeted with a radiant beaming smile, still running his fingertips through Leia's fur, scratching her behind her left ear just the way she liked. His voice was just as warm as ever, no trace of malice or lingering frustration in the timbre or pitch of his voice, greeting Stiles like an old friend rather than an ex-boyfriend who had dumped him in a fit of anger.

God, he made it really hard for Stiles to hate him. Or even just to pretend to hate him since actually hating him was impossible considering how much he still loved him.

"Uh... Hi, Derek," Stiles replied in a rush of breath, raising his hand in an awkward little wave despite the fact that Derek was barely three feet away from him. Quickly shifting to scratch the back of his head with said offending hand, he murmured, "Long time no see."

He winced the second the words left his mouth, wanting to crawl into a nearby die and just die. Because of course they had not seen each other in a long time and it was all Stiles' fault.

He had literally screamed in Derek’s face that he never wanted to see him again the night of their breakup. Then, in the aftermath of their breakup, Stiles had done everything in his power to avoid seeing Derek.

On the other hand, Derek had been the one that still texted Stiles every week, without fail, to inform him of pack meetings and movie nights. Because Derek was a literal amalgamation of sunshine and rainbows and werewolf shaped marshmallows with angry eyebrows who tried to be civil towards his asshole ex even after their tumultuous breakup.

Stiles had been an idiot to even /think/ that he was good enough for Derek. Even if Derek did have a death wish.

"I didn't know you walked here," Derek commented with a thoughtful hum, squinting up at Stiles while raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. He looked so amazing and sweet that Stiles nearly caved right then and there and begged Derek to take him back, not above groveling if need be.

But Stiles held strong, tightening his grip on Leia's leash to give himself something to focus on, fixating on the coarse roughness of the lead in his hand, on the sunlight beating down on his back. He couldn't give in so easily and he knew it.

He really didn't want to have to watch Derek kill himself. It was bad enough that he had watched his mother die.

He couldn't go through that again. Especially not when he knew, deep down in some instinctual part of him, that it would hurt even worse this time around.

Shaking off as many thoughts of death and despair as he possibly could, Stiles ran the palm of his hand over the back of his neck, the skin there just as flushed as his face. Nodding frantically to answer Derek's inquiry, Stiles realized that he should probably use his words, too rather than just gesture about wildly and hope Derek understood what he meant.

"Oh, yeah! Yeah," Stiles relayed, still bobbing his head up and down as though the motion itself corroborated his claim. Forcibly stilling the movement of his head, he reached down to ruffle Leia's ears, elaborating, "Leia loves this place. Try to walk her every day if I can."

"That's good," Derek commented, apparently for once in his life a fan of small talk. That was just Stiles' luck: his boyfriend was as quiet as a church mouse while they were dating but as talkative as Stiles himself after their breakup. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he only heard the tail end of what Derek said next, "---have to tire her out somehow."

Stiles only belatedly registered that Derek was talking about Leia, again combing his fingers through her khaki colored fur, tracing aimless patterns with his fingertips. Forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Stiles nodded, this time keeping it to a few bobs of his head, and joked, "Yeah, well, you know Leia. She's just a little ball of energy."

Leia turned her head to look back at Stiles at the mention of her name, her little tail wiggling in excitement, without a doubt existing a treat for no other reason than because she wanted one. Stiles rolled his eyes at her and reached over to drag his hand over the top of her head and down between her shoulders, his hand accidentally brushing Derek's, sending a jolt through him.

It looked like that hadn't changed, Stiles always feeling a warm fluttery feeling both his chest and belly whenever he touched Derek. Then, as though taking advantage of Stiles' shock, Derek took him off guard even further by saying, "You haven't been coming to pack meetings."

Stiles stilled, blanching a bit as he desperately attempted to formulate a response, the warm blush that had colored his cheeks draining out of his face as his palms began to sweat. Leave it to Derek to go straight for the jugular. He wondered if that was a wolf thing.

"Uh, yeah... I figured you wouldn't want me there," Stiles answered truthfully, not seeing any point in beating around the bush since Derek would be able to tell if he was lying. He scratched the back of his head again as he unnecessarily added, "Y'know, after..."

"Of course I want you there. You're pack," Derek answered, as he sent him a blindingly bright grin that nearly struck him completely dead, his brain dangerously close to short-circuiting at the sight of Derek's radiant smile.

That same smile that he used to wake up to on Saturday mornings when he spent the night at the loft, stretching out in Derek's luxurious California king. That same smile that he used to trace with the pad of his thumb while lounging on the couch, his legs thrown over Derek's lap. That same smile that Derek had flashed him when he presented him with Leia for the first time, the puppy squirming in his arms.

It was the smile that had made him fall in love with Derek the first time he saw it. And now, it was the smile that broke his heart.

Because it just confirmed what Stiles had feared. Derek had no feelings for him whatsoever, probably only seeing him, and their entire relationship, as some stupid little impulsive fling that he would forget about in a few months. And Stiles would go back to just being the annoying token human of the pack.

He tightened his grip on Leia's leash, nervously flexing his clammy fingers, though he knew that what he really needed to get a grip on was himself. Glancing down at Leia before flicking his eyes back up to meet Derek's again, he cleared his throat and claimed, "Well, uh, I'll definitely be at the next one--" Derek's smile grew even wider, if such a thing was possible "---but we should probably get going."

"I'll see you there, then," Derek announced, still running his fingers through Leia's fur, stroking over the back of her head and neck, down between her shoulders. Moving his hand around to her face, Derek cupped her chin in his hands, bringing her head up so he could press a quick kiss to the tip of her wet nose. "And I'll see you later, too, your highness."

Leia gave him another affectionate lick to the cheek, blissfully ignorant of her owner's misgivings about the entire situation, wagging her stubby tail. Stiles maintained his forced smile when Derek let out a deep chuckle and kissed Leia's forehead, wishing he were anywhere else but there.

Feeling itchy and a bit panicky, Stiles gave Leia's leash a gentle tug, just enough to get her attention, and clicked his tongue. He felt a pang of guilt at his own desire to flee the scene, not wanting to deprive Leia of contact with Derek, who was essentially her other parent, but he needed to get out of there yesterday.

After bidding a final goodbye to Derek, Leia slobbering all over his face while Stiles just dipped his head, they hurried back to the Jeep, though Stiles tried his damndest to not look like they were hurrying. And if Stiles had to hold back tears as they climbed into the Jeep? Well, Leia would never tell.

* * * * *

"You stupid, selfish asshole!" Stiles snarled as he barged into the loft, forcefully shoving the heavy steel door open to charge into the room, looking murderous. Leia hobbled in after him, completely unperturbed by the stench of blood and bile that hung thick in the air of the loft, wiggling her tail.

Everyone in the loft froze in their tracks at Stiles' words, whipping their heads around to gape at him, some of them having not seen him in over two months. They would have seen him earlier that night had a flock of harpies not flown into town and decided to wreak havoc on some local campers deep within the preserve.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were sitting on the couch together, the trio practically inseparable. Erica had a deep gash on her cheek that was knitting itself back together, Boyd had a large bruise on the side of his shaved head, and Isaac had three talon marks on his right forearm that he was pressing a hand towel to.

Allison and Kira were standing by the wall of windows, both of them completely unscathed but clearly exhausted nonetheless. Jackson and Scott were plopped down in the loveseat across from the couch the other betas were occupying, both of them covered in various, mostly superficial scratches.

Peter was standing in the middle of the loft, looking widely unamused as he tended to Derek's horrific injuries that did not seem to be healing on their own. He was sitting on the edge of a side table, almost covered completely in blood, wincing as Peter stitched up his battered side.

Not waiting for anyone else to say anything, Stiles stomped further into the loft. No one dared stop him as he made a beeline for Derek, even Peter moving out of his way. The old wolf may be an arrogant, irreverent asshole but he knew how to pick his battles.

Derek frowned down at him from his precarious perch on the side table, his expression more of a pout than a true glare. He had blood smeared on his right cheek, the dried liquid clinging to the coarse hairs of his stubble, darkening the skin beneath them.

Parts of his hair were matted with blood, flattened against his skull, making him look ridiculous. At least, it would have made him look ridiculous if he didn't look like he was on death's doorstep.

Stiles couldn't even count how many claw marks and gashes and bruises Derek had all over his body, and he used to count to a million to occupy himself during boring middle school lectures. He doubted there was a single square inch of Derek's body that didn't have a scratch or contusion or blood on it and it terrified him.

Seeing Derek like this, battered and bloody and yet so calm about it, like he was perfectly content with the fact that he might have died, absolutely wrecked him. He had a nick on his forehead, splitting his left brow in two, and there was a horrifically deep slice on his side, only halfway stitched up, both still steadily dripping blood.

Stiles' anger evaporated in an instant at the closer look at Derek. It was replaced by a deep anguish and shell shocking fear, a sob welling up in his throat as his eyes suddenly stung with tears.

Derek's brows, the injured one included, nearly met his hairline when Stiles practically collapsed into his arms, colliding with the werewolf so heavily and unexpectedly it startled a comical 'oof' out of him. Immediately, whether it was due to habit or instinct, he wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him close and running a hand up and down his back.

Fisting his hands in the once pristine white tank top that was now little more than a few tattered shreds of fabric that Derek was wearing, Stiles buried his face in the uninjured side of Derek's chest and sobbed. His whimpers rose up from deep within him, shaking his whole frame as he hiccuped and sniffled, so choked up he couldn't properly form any words.

Again everyone else in the loft froze, glancing at each other before flicking their eyes back over to Stiles as he cried into Derek's chest, his cries plaintive and heart-wrenching. Stiles was the unshakeable one, the fearless one, the calm-in-the-middle-of-a-storm one. To see him so broken down, so unabashedly emotional, was jarring.

Even Peter shifted his weight uncomfortably, coughing a bit and averting his eyes, giving Derek and Stiles some privacy in the full room. He plucked up a dish towel, wiping his bloodied hands as he strolled away from the broken up couple, looking over at the betas who had followed his example and turned their eyes from their alpha and his ex.

"Stiles?" Derek murmured softly, soft enough that only Stiles heard him, though he had a feeling the others in the room were deliberately ignoring his words. Settling his hand on Stiles' hip, Derek gave a gentle squeeze and tipped his head to the side to press his cheek to Stiles' temple. He closed his eyes, focusing on the wild beating rhythm of Stiles' heart.

Ignoring the cloying coppery scent of blood that clung to Derek's tank top, Stiles pressed his face against it, feeling the warmth of Derek's skin against him. He didn't know if he would ever be able to articulate just how terrified he had been when he received the text from Erica about the harpy attack, knowing Derek's predilection for self-sacrifice.

His worries and fears hadn't been unfounded, Erica mentioning in her text that the alpha had saved Boyd from a swooping assault by using himself as a shield. When he had read the text, he had been overwhelmed with an unpleasant, swirling tsunami of fear and anger and guilt that settled in his gut, threatening to make him lose his lunch.

Now, seeing the extent of Derek's injuries, seeing the stains in his clothes, and the exhaustion written clearly across his face, it made the storm in his stomach even worse. He wouldn't have been able to hold his tears back if he tried, which he did.

"You asshole!" Stiles growled, though it sounded more like a sob than anything else, gritting his teeth against an onslaught of fresh tears. He wasn't even sure if Derek could understand what he was saying, but, undeterred, he continued on, screeching, "You fucking asshole! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Stiles, I---"

"No! Shut up! You're gonna fucking listen to me for once!" Stiles sharply cut him off, a fierceness to his voice that left Derek stunned into silence, not daring to speak again until Stiles was finished. His hands shaking as he desperately clutched Derek's ruined tank top in his fists, Stiles took a deep, stuttering breath and snarled, "I've had enough of your macho alpha bullshit! You can't keep doing this, Derek!"

He took a step back and raised his head, pinning Derek with a solemn look punctuated by pink, puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Untangling one hand from Derek's bloody shirt, he gestured at the others in the room, announcing, "Your betas don't need you to swoop in like Superman and save their asses! They can take care of themselves!"

Derek swallowed heavily and risked a glance over at his betas, all of whom were looking at him again. Most of their wounds had already healed, none of them that severe save for his own. As they met his eyes, they nodded gravely, wordlessly agreeing with and confirming Stiles' claim.

"What the hell do you think they're gonna do when you finally manage to get yourself killed, huh?!" Stiles growled, drawing Derek's attention back to himself, his arms now folded over his chest. His eyes were still brimming with tears but his chin was lifted in a display of both defiance and determination. He clearly wasn't backing down anytime soon, not that Derek expected him to. "They need an alpha! They need you to be alive to be that alpha! Do you even realize how fucking lost we'd all be if you got yourself killed?!"

"Stiles," Derek sighed, raising a hand to scrub it over his face, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose. "You'd all be fine."

When Stiles didn't immediately respond, Derek dropped his hand, worried that something was wrong. He had never seen Stiles look so devastated or so seething mad.

Both emotions seemed to be grappling for supremacy on Stiles' face, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were stark white. Derek immediately recognized that he had fucked up but there was no going back, there was no fixing it.

"Is that really what you think?" Stiles asked, his voice oddly even, dangerously calm to the point that it made Derek swallow nervously. But before he could say anything, Stiles went on in the same placid tone, "That we'd all be fine without you? That we wouldn't be going out of our minds without you? That /I/ wouldn't be going out of my fucking mind without you?"

Derek opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a pathetic croak. Stiles didn't even seem to notice, continuing, "Because let me tell you something, buddy, I'd be fucking lost without you. These past two months without you made me feel like I was already dead."

"But," Derek began shakily, "you were the one who broke up with me---"

"Yeah! I did!" Stiles huffed in frustration, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Because you kept pulling this kind of shit and I couldn't sit around and watch the person I'm in love with get themselves killed because of some misplaced sense of martyrdom!"

He was panting by the end of his exclamation and while he had said a lot, Derek could only focus on one part, his jaw dropping. "Love? You...love me?"

"Of course, I do," Stiles replied, all the anger fleeing from his voice as he stepped closer to Derek, raising his hands to gently cup Derek's face. The slightest hint of a tremble in his voice, he whispered incredulously, "Derek, you really didn't know?"

Derek shook his head, chewing his bottom lip. The pain in Stiles' eyes immediately revealed that he had been wrong.

A moment later, Stiles' arms were tightly wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. With his mouth by Derek's ear, he murmured, "I love you, Derek. And I'm gonna do whatever I can to make you realize that life is worth living."

Hugging Stiles back, Derek mumbled, "I already know it is. I love you, too, Stiles."


End file.
